


The Director Of You

by zauberer_sirin



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Coulson loves taking orders from Skye, Dom/sub, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Established Relationship, F/M, Masturbation, Mild Kink, POV Skye (Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D.), Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Shameless Smut, Shower Sex, Skye frustrates Coulson if you know what I mean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-27
Updated: 2014-12-27
Packaged: 2018-03-03 19:00:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2868932
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/zauberer_sirin/pseuds/zauberer_sirin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Skye makes Coulson take a shower.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Director Of You

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hazel75](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hazel75/gifts), [Skyepilot](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Skyepilot/gifts).



“Get in,” she instructs him.

He does, not just because hey, he promised but because somehow it seems less embarrassing than simply standing in his own bathroom naked. 

His shower is very nice, though. Like, unfairly so. Unfair Director privileges and all. Skye had loved his shower – and had loved his shower with him in it – since the first time she had stepped into it, when their relationship had been still shaky and she hadn't been sure if she was welcome to it, but she was tired from training and not in the mood to go to her room only to come back to Coulson's. 

He had watch her that day, and now, months later, she gets to watch him.

Coulson hisses a bit while the water heats up. He eyes Skye a bit, the mutual agreement is that this is a pretty unusual request, but Coulson has never denied her any unusual requests until now. If anything, he encourages them. Skye gets why he is so eager to follow her instructions to the letter, once they are alone. He doesn't say but a whole day of ordering his agents around and feeling responsible for the lives of hundreds of people (not to mention who knows how many innocents in the process), a whole day where every decision he makes can have world-changing consequences – yeah, she gets why coming back to Skye every night and putting himself in her hands might be a kind of balsam. Not only does he enjoy this arrangement, he kind of needs it. Or some days he needs them.

The water starts falling on his shoulders, hot and healing, and Skye is just as happy to help him wash a day like today away.

Unconsciously he scratches the scar on his chest, lightly; she knows it gets itchy under hot water. It's funny, the things one gets to know about another human being, if you get close enough for long enough. Coulson, remembering Skye's gaze, turns the gesture into something sexier, or he tries, running his hand across his chest as the water sticks the hair to his skin. He takes pride in his body, and Skye takes pride in it, too, this gorgeous fool in front of her. She's not ashamed of that (stupid Catholic school education be damned, she loves _this_ ).

"That's nice," she says, smirking at his satisfaction. He loves compliments while having sex, or before like this, or after. "Comb your hair back with your fingers."

He does that, letting the water fall on his face, his flushed cheeks. He throws his head back and Skye can see the muscles on his neck tensing beautifully. When he faces her again he has this smug smile on his lips. She feels goosebumps crawl on her arm. 

"Is the water okay?" she asks.

"Warm and nice. You should try it."

"Later. I just want to watch."

"Skye."

" _Let me watch_."

"We'll get the whole place flooded," he argues, weakly, pointing at the open shower door, water splashed across the floor as he gestures.

"I'll make you mop it," Skye threatens. She can see him shiver. "What was that?"

There's defiance in his face. 

He stares her down.

"That went straight to my cock," he admits, eventually, but looking petulant and proud.

And well, she guesses he has the right to be a bit proud; already half-hard (she knows it's mostly the nice, warm water, but she likes to think it's her too) his cock _is_ a pretty sight. She could let her mouth go dry at such sight or she could have more fun with Coulson. She shallows and gives him a dangerous smirk – there's almost fear in those eyes even before she opens her mouth. Fear and excitement.

"Wash your hair," she says.

"What?"

"Your nice eighty-dollar shampoo. Use it."

"It doesn't really cost– That is really weird," he tells her, with a voice that implies he doesn't mind or thinks so, or maybe he has had stranger requests in his lifetime. She wants to hear all about that. She makes him tell her all about his former exploits – it kinda turns her on.

"You don't have that much hair," Skye teases. "You'll be done in a moment."

He grins at her words.

He turns around to grab the shampoo.

"That's what I'm talking about," Skye says appreciatively.

"You're a maniac," he replies over his shoulder.

"Yeah, but I'm your maniac."

Which, corny, Skye, corny, but Coulson makes a sighing sound and though she can't see his face she has a good idea of what it must look like. She doesn't regret it at all, she's earned being corny, Coulson's earned her corniness too.

He takes his time washing his hair. Maybe he is trying to play her game. Skye is just happy to watch him. Still turned around she stares at the well-trained muscles of his back, and the reminder, like some sort of beautiful and painful punctuation sign, of his matching scar. He throws his arms back. She has touched that spot between his shoulderblades countless times, or so it seems to her. She has rested her hand on it, discovering it was the most effective gesture whenever she wanted to comfort him about some pain or sadness.

"Coulson," she calls.

He turns around, frowning a bit, because she used her normal voice instead of her do-as-I-tell-you voice.

"What?"

He knows he _can_ talk to her, and this is her way of letting him know, that she gets it, the kind of day he's had.

She shakes her head. "Nothing."

"Why don't you undress and get in?"

She shakes her head again. She intends to, just not right now. She wants Coulson a lot more relaxed and a lot more _hers_ before she does.

She takes off her boots but nothing else, she stands barefoot in the middle of the bathroom, wiggling her toes against the cold tiled floor.

"Skye."

"What?" she asks all innocently.

"Come in," he tries to instruct. Has he forgotten she's the one with the instructions here? He might be Director of SHIELD but she is the Director of Phil Coulson.

She shakes her head one more times and clicks her tongue. He knows she expects a show. He's not shy and wraps his hand around his cock with a clear " _come on, is this what you wanted?_ look on his face. Not that Skye is looking at his face right now. It's one of her favorite things, watching him touch himself, and one she took _ages_ to confess to him and then she kicked herself for not saying something sooner because the Director of SHIELD? A big exhibitionist, as it turns out. He loves jerking off in front of her. He's usually slower and more aesthetic than this, though, the warm water must be distracting him into complacency.

"Slow down, soldier," she says. "Or there'll be nothing for me to enjoy when I come in."

He lets out a sound that is half a groan and half a growl. It's the _soldier_ , she swears, it works every time. She's beginning to get the hang on this whole sleeping with the boss thing. Terrible hours but lots of perks. He seemed like such a mistery when they started and now – now Skye could write a book.

But he slows down. He gives his cock a couple of slow, long strokes, his thumb drawing circles around the tip, and then he pulls at it, hard enough that Skye sucks in a breath, very pleased. He sticks his tongue slightly, there it is, she's been waiting for that gesture and she could definitely write a book. He drops his hand a moment, fully hard, his cock looking raw and demanding attention under the water and against his stomach.

She comes closer. Tiny drops of water splash her face, when he changes the angle.

"So now you want to come in," he comments.

Skye doesn't take the bait. Coulson looks mildly annoyed now. She would feel bad but she finds him sexy like this. "I just wanted a closer look."

She leans on the shower screen, pressing her lips together and yes, her thighs too, she's not completely unresponsive to all this.

He comes closer, too. Her eyes never leave his as he starts stroking himself again.

But then Skye can tell the exact moment where he gets a little too _frustrated_.

"Okay, just – fuck it."

He grabs her by the waist and pulls her in with him. Skye lets out a noise of complain at the shock of having her clothes stick to her body in the most uncomfortable way, once the shower water has done its job. The noise get muffled against Coulson's kiss. She can taste the trace of his super expensive shampoo in it, and she breathes in more water than she expected because the showerhead is right above where they are kissing so Skye gasps and pushes Coulson to one side to continue the kiss but with less drowning. He doesn't seem to notice, his mouth blindly following whatever contact with Skye it can find. She lets herself be kissed like that, Coulson making decisions again; nice, harmless decisions that won't get anyone killed.

"Bad day, uh?" she asks, finally, touching her fingertips to his temple.

He gives her a little smile and his eyes go all soft; he closes them and kisses the curve of her neck, burying his face or hiding its expression there for a moment.

"I don't want to talk about it," he says, both realizing how absurd it is to try and have a serious conversation when there's on fully-clothed person under a running shower.

Baby, you've already talked about it, Skye thinks and in her defense she never _ever_ calls Coulson "baby", not even in her mind, so this is not the norm at all. She's a bit appalled at herself. Then the warm water, even through her inconvenient clothes (she should have undressed when he told her to; man, always listen to your Director, that's the lesson here), lulls her and he was right, it's really nice under the shower, even if she has to try and look at him through the water running down her face.

Then Coulson is tugging at her wet clothes and he really doesn't want to talk, and that's just fine. Skye still could write a book. Some times he needs to say it, some times he doesn't at all.

He peels the t-shirt off her with great difficulty, "Fuck, fuck," he repeats when it won't go over her head.

Skye laughs, when she's finally free and touches her laughing mouth to his shoulder for a moment. The bra is easier, a lot easier, and he barely needs both hands, which is just as well, because he is busy scooping water to pour it over her hair and then thread his fingers into it. And she is the weird one. She shrugs the straps of her bra away and Coulson is already on to the next step, trying to get his damp fingers to work the button of her pants.

It's pretty much impossible and he groans a bit – it is a very good noise, Skye will have to make sure to find pants that are hard to take off in the future, shower or not – and then he gets the first button and he laughs openly, water falling all over his shoulders and then over Skye's breasts. He runs his thumb over Skye's jaw before kissing her again, fingers still hooked around the waistband of her jeans, like he's afraid she might slip away.

"Great," she says, gesturing down her wet jeans. "I just washed them, you know."

" _I'll_ wash them again later."

" _Hand_ wash them."

"Yes," he says, desperatedly, and desperatedly close to her mouth again.

"Will you let me watch?" Skye asks.

"Of course," he says, and neither of them seem to think it's a particularly weird request, though it probably, totally is.


End file.
